


a little choppy

by angelatflightrisk



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Gen, Trans Carlos, Trans Male Character, trans carlos origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 20:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelatflightrisk/pseuds/angelatflightrisk
Summary: Carmaline de Vil is eleven years old when they decide something they’ve been keeping to themself should be out in the open.





	a little choppy

**Author's Note:**

> WOW my first descendants thing

Carmaline was not their name.

"They" being the singular use of they, that is. The gender neutral version. The one you used when you didn't know what else to use. When maybe there was something specific you wanted to use, but you were scared of what others would say if they heard any pronoun but "she" leave your lips when referring to yourself.

For the sake of their comfort, they. Regardless, they weren't Carmaline. They weren't she. They weren't a girl.

That long hair. That damn hair. The long, pretty, messy curls that fell around their pretty face and into their pretty dark eyes. Their dark eyes with their lashes long and their small frame too petite and their voice to soft to be anything but girl.

And their pretty long hair.

Others had nicknames for them. Jay called them Carma, or Car, but it didn't matter. Nothing could make that name theirs. Nothing.

They liked it sometimes, though, when Mal called them runt. Runt. Nothing about it suggesting that they were a girl.

They were small. They were the smallest of the four. That was just a fact. So— Runt.

If it was up to them, though, they'd all call them Carlos.

Carlos. They love it. Everything about it. They love it. It feels like theirs, it feels like home.

And if it were up to him, they'd all use that pronoun. Him. His. He. It sounds perfect. It sounds right.

He knows they’re waiting for him. They’re wondering where he is, and he can hear their voices from the ground from where he is.

He’s steeling his nerves. But it’s time.

He drops down from his place hidden in the loft of the building, his boots hitting the concrete with finality, harsh.

Loud.

He keeps his head held down, the hood of his jacket over his hair, his eyes turned up just enough to see his friends turn around and see him. Tilted down enough to show his reserve.

Closed off , careful, hostile. How they’ve all been taught to be.

Each of them looks surprised. Tattered clothes, each of them. Dirt and blood and the stains of living where and how they are.

They're just kids. None of them are older than twelve. They're just kids, and they only have each other. 

Jay's face lights up, seeing him. He steps forward, approaching his friend.

"Carmali--?"

He reaches up before his friend can finish that name, pulls the hood up off of his hair and meets his friend's eyes with a sort of defiance in his gaze.

Jay falls silent, staring forward at him like he's looking at a stranger.

Carlos hasn't even shown his mother.

She wouldn't care. She is the mother of every jagged scar across his pale skin, and she is not worthy of knowing him first.

No. His tribe comes first. Always.

They are all silent as they look at him, for the first time. Him.

Him, with that pretty long hair cut away. With those pretty messy curls falling in a mess against his forehead, into his dark eyes. Curling around his ears. Cut away to the nape of his neck behind him.

The three stare at him, silent. Jay looks shocked, as does Evie, and he knows they both understand.

Mal's expression is unreadable as her hand falls on Jay's shoulder, as she steps forward to take her place as leader of the pack as she always does.

Her eyes are green.

Carlos is afraid, a sort of unsteady anxiety in his core as she approaches him, his stance straightening instinctively.

  
She is a year older than him. She's taller than him. She's more confident than him, smoother around her edges despite the tatters in her purple hair and in her clothes, the blood stains around her mouth.

They're just kids.

"You know..." She begins, taking the black beanie off of her head and holding it in her hands as she approaches. Carlos's eyes flicker to it, confused.

"It's a little choppy," She continues, and a startled noise leaves his throat as he feels the beanie get pulled onto his head, tousling his curls. He hears her laugh around her words before she steps back again, standing side by side with the rest of them.

There's a smile on her face. Real. Genuine.

These three are all he has. And each of them only has the four of them. They are the only ones who will ever truly understand each other. They will never leave this place, as long as they live.

He knows that in his core when he looks up at them, curls in his eyes, the beanie on his head, disbelief in his chest.

"But," Mal finishes, the green in her eyes strong, her arms crossed over her chest, "...Looks good, runt."

Carlos didn't go home that night. He'd spent many nights there in her house in all that wicked despair, feeling like someone who was not him, posing in spotlights he was not made for.

Carlos stayed there, with his pack. They were the children of the night, the immortals of their time. And they were all each other had.

And like they did most nights, they were content to stare at the skyline of the kingdom against the sea, and be together.

Carlos wasn't sure if he believed in evil. But he believed in them.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think, what you want to see, request stuff, draw me things, WHATEVER JUST TALK TO ME my tumblr is
> 
> https://crashtacular.tumblr.com/
> 
> i love comments!!! i live for them!!! i check for them everyday please comment!


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